Vane found himself an unwilling spectator to the past once more. His eyes searched Vajra’s room one last time. Even as a child, his brother had been a tidy person; a trait that had evidently carried into adulthood. It was twice as large as his own; perks of being a Grovetender, no doubt. Despite its size, the room housed little in the way of furniture. A large desk sat in its center, and an ornate bed in the corner, but no more. It would be even emptier tomorrow.

Vane couldn’t help but wonder if it looked different before his sister-in-law’s death. He ran his hands over the desk. The war had changed everyone, but perhaps none more than Vajra. The days of their childhood were long forgotten.

Just as Vane put one foot through the door, he spotted something in the corner. It was their father’s old elderwood cane. A smile tugged at Vane’s lips as he picked it up. Its mottled green-and-brown surface was worn smooth from years of use. I guess some things never change.

It was an object of envy for them as children; not for some aesthetic beauty, but for what it represented. After breaking it, they’d anticipated their father’s wrath, but the old man had only laughed.

Vane set the cane back down– and then paused. Something about its presence bothered him. You’re not the sentimental type. Not anymore. That was what he’d said to his brother, just a week before his death. It was true. So why was this here? Another memory pushed its way to the front of his thoughts. Something their father had shown them. Bringing the cane to his ear, Vane tapped his fingers down its length. A hollow note sounded halfway down.

There.

Vane gripped both ends and brought the cane down on his knee. The wood cracked and splintered, but didn’t break. It snapped in half as he repeated the action. He inspected both ends, careful not to hold them too close together. Nothing. What was I thinking? Just as Vane was about to set it back down, another thought struck him. What happened when we were kids? They’d been messing around, and then… That’s right. The one thing father had scolded them for. Setting down one half, Vane nicked his finger on the other’s jagged end.

The elderwood spines darkened as it absorbed his blood, but no more. Feeling somewhat foolish, he retrieved the other half. Just as he was about to press them together, Vane hesitated. Vajra had always been the meticulous type. The sensation of foolishness grew as he cut his right cheek with the same half.

Still nothing.

Vane sighed. What did I expect? He looked back down at the other, unbloodied half. How foolish of me. He’d cut himself on the handle end as a child; of that much, he was certain. With a defeated sigh, Vane pressed both halves together– and nearly dropped them. As the two halves snapped back together, a ripple spread across the cane’s surface. Vane’s hands, once pressed to the smooth, polished wood, now rested on a thin piece of paper wrapped around it.

Struck by a moment of panic, he whipped around. He was still alone. Imbuing essence into his bracelet, he stowed the cane– paper and all– before checking the hallway. All clear. Vane forced his stride to remain calm and steady as he left. As soon as his feet crossed the doorway, a tide of raw emotion swept over Vane, carrying him away from the dream.

image [https://i.imgur.com/T7fdvjj.png]

When Vane opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Viria’s face, clouded by his tears. He blinked, and her face came into focus. “Viria,” he croaked. Her head snapped down at the sound of his voice.

“Uncle!” She half-whispered, half-shouted. Her eyes were red. “Hold on. You need to eat.”

Sitting up, Vane grabbed her wrist. The pain was less pronounced now, but his body still screamed in protest. “No,” he croaked. “You shouldn’t.” Viria’s emerald eyes were rife with a complicated mixture of emotions. Grief was chief among them.

“He told you?” Vane asked slowly.

She nodded.

“Then you already know.”

He saw tears form in Viria’s eyes. “I won’t.” Her voice was filled with a grim resolve.

“Viria…”

She shook her head. “I won’t,” she repeated, more fiercely this time.

“You have to. Either I die, or we both do.”

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Viria fell silent as her head dropped. “Why?” She asked. “Why do the people around me always get hurt? Mom, dad, Veile… now you.” Her head dropped further. “You’re going to die because of me.”

Vane pulled his niece into a tight embrace. She stiffened then relaxed, and soon enough, the sound of her muffled crying drifted up. “It’s not your fault. None of it is.” Vane forced his voice steady. “And your sister loves you.”

“But I tried to kill her.”

The statement, something he’d heard so many times, angered Vane. Just how deeply did they poison her mind? “You were a child,” he growled, unable to keep it from his voice. “Your father and I must have come close to killing each other dozens of times. You have to survive. You are the most important thing to me. Alright?”

Viria pulled an arm’s length away. Her eyes were red, and her face glistened with tears. “Alright,” she whispered.

Vane reached for his waist, then glanced around when his fingers closed on nothing. “Where’s my sword?” He asked. Viria stood up and returned with it a moment later. She tried to hand it to him, but Vane shook his head. “It’s yours now.” He felt a pang of sadness. He’d carried it since the war; his one and only constant companion during those bloody days. But he had no use for it now. Reaching out, he curled Viria’s fingers around it. “Promise me something,” he whispered.

She nodded silently.

Vane reached out with his other hand and gently pulled on the back of her head, leaning down to press his forehead to yours. “You have all the reason in the world to hate Vasoria,” he began. “But don’t let it control your life.” He felt Viria tremble. “I know I’m being selfish. But you’re young. You still have so many years ahead of you. Don’t spend them wallowing in hatred and chasing revenge.”

“...” Viria was silent.

Vane tightened his grip on her hand. “Promise me,” he whispered insistently. He felt her nod. “I promise.”

Vane pulled back. “Good.” he coughed. “You know what to do when you arrive?”

“Yes.”

“Get Selerim.” She returned with the hollow in tow. He knelt by Vane. “What is it?”

Vane looked at Viria. “Can you give me a moment? It won’t be long,” he added at her look of concern. He turned back to Selerim as she stepped away.

“You should spend your last moments with her,” he said.

“I’m not kicking the bucket yet,” Vane growled. “Just listen to me.” The boy’s pale violet eyes were grim as they locked onto his own. “You’ll make sure she gets back safely.” It wasn’t a question; there was no need to ask.

Selerim nodded.

Vane pulled one sleeve up, revealing his wooden bracelet. “Take this after I’m dead,” he said flatly. “You’ll need it after you arrive.”

Another nod. “Is that all?”

Vane shook his head. “I won’t ask you to watch over Viria,” he said slowly. “I know you can’t. You have your own family to worry about. But please… be kind to her. She deserves better.” Selerim’s lavender eyes were unreadable.

“I mean it,” Vane rasped.

“... Alright.” The hollow made to stand.

“Wait.” Vane grabbed his wrist. “When you arrive. Look for Veril. If… if it was our people who destroyed your village. He’ll know.”

“I thought you said you didn’t know who attacked us.” Selerim’s voice was icy.

“I don’t. Veril was the one who told us about Cress. I trust him, but…” Vane trailed off. “If you find them, kill them all.”

“Why the change of heart?”

Vane looked towards where Viria stood with her back to them, looking down at the sword in her hand. “Because if you don’t, she will,” he said softly. “And I don’t want that for her. I’ve seen it in your eyes. You’re struggling with it, aren’t you?”

“...”

“It’ll destroy her. I know I’m being selfish, but…”

“What if I can’t find them?”

“Then let it all burn.” Some of Vane’s old anger resurfaced.

The hollow was silent. Finally, he nodded.

Vane released his wrist. “Can you get her?” Selerim stood, and a moment later, Viria knelt at his side. “Why?” Her voice was barely audible.

Vane smiled sadly. “Because you have to,” he said. “I want you to live. That’s the most important thing to me.” He tapped his bracelet. “Make sure to give this to Selerim.” And before she could say anything more, he slipped it off.

The effects were immediate. The dull pain in his arm instantly reverberated through the rest of his body. He could practically feel the web-like scars spread up his arm, coiling around his throat and heart. His vision blurred as pressure swelled inside his head, pounding against his feeble thoughts. A choked sob wracked Viria’s thin body.

Vane pulled her into another hug. Her whole body was trembling. “I love you. You know that, right?” He asked softly. She nodded. “It would be nice to hear you say it,” Vane said softly.

“... I love you.”

It was the last thing Vane ever heard.

image [https://i.imgur.com/T7fdvjj.png]

“...”

Vane found himself a spectator to the past one last time. It was different, this time; not a dream, but a vestige of life that hadn’t yet left him. When it faded, so too would he. Vane’s hands trembled as they unfolded the letter. His brother’s neat handwriting covered the small square page.

Hello, little brother, it read.

Do you still remember our dream? I, the Grovetender, and you, my loyal guardian. Even amid this accursed war, I have never once forgotten. Alas, some things are simply not meant to be; I fear this was one of them.

The Council has changed much since our father’s time, and even more so since the beginning of our bloody conflict. Had we remained close, you would have no doubt become a victim of our political game– just as my daughters have.

Trust is scarce these days. You remain one of the last few that has mine.

Remember your oath, brother.